Good Game_A Gamer Romance Page 5

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Wednesday nights at Eden, after nine. I do them mostly for fun, and to see what comes up, but people do tip pretty well.” She grinned. “I hope you don’t forget that when we’ve scared Olivia back into her kitchen.”

  “What, tips or where to find you Wednesdays at nine?”

  She gripped the steering wheel tighter. Both, definitely. “Tips.”

  “I won’t. So does it, like, work? Do you believe in all that? I’m surprised a physicist is into the occult.”

  “You’d be surprised.” She shrugged, trying to throw off the tension growing in her shoulders. “Do we understand the world perfectly? No. We don’t understand a lot of things. We have theories we can’t prove. Gravity, black holes. The nature and shape of space and time. Lots of theories that seem likely to be true, working models. We spend our time finding or confirming something new. In my case, it’s a better laser, but same difference. Gotta be open-minded. So I consider tarot a meditative tool. Taps into the subconscious. Does it tell the future? I don’t know.” She shrugged again. “Maybe not. But maybe there are forces in the universe we haven’t yet measured or described. Or maybe there’s some deep psychology we don’t understand yet that makes it helpful anyway. The mind and brain might be the thing we least understand.”

  “Case in point, those assholes back there.”

  She laughed. “Yes. Anyway, some discussions over the cards seem to help people. I don’t have a scientific explanation for why. Maybe it just comforts people to imagine they can know the future or have some guidance about it.”

  “Don’t we all want that?”

  His tone remained mild, calm, interested. She blinked. He hadn’t laughed his ass off like Damon would have, or told her she was crazy like Frank had, or rolled his eyes repeatedly—Max’s favorite. She glanced at Jack. He still stared out the window, his form lanky and relaxed and sexy as hell.

  Damn. What had she done? She’d been the one to kiss him. She’d started this. She had no one to blame for the heat blossoming within her but herself.

  Chapter 3

  The ride to Riola’s was entirely too quick. Jack wanted to hear Vio cuss out his family a few more times, but asking specifically for that was probably too much. But it had felt so good to hear.

  Everything she said felt good to hear. It felt… true. Like he could trust it. Like the lies he usually got from most people weren’t worth her time.

  And when it had started to get heated, when he’d braced himself to hear much worse than he’d expected—she’d stopped it all. Quite gracefully, with a compliment to boot.

  He bought her a coffee—a maple extra shot half syrup latte, he noted for later—and tried to shrug off a strange disappointment when she didn’t stay. The work was over; why would she stay? She had work to do. Not like his loser self.

  And besides, he had a raging hard-on that was determined to stay around as long as she did. The sooner she left, the less likely she would notice it.

  From inside the shop, he watched her walk to her car and felt a weird sense of failure, as if he should have kissed her goodbye. Once she’d gotten into her Rabbit and driven away, though, relief mingled with the disappointment and longing.

  It had stung more than he’d expected to hear Frank and his father and the others spout off. He usually ignored them, although sometimes they got his goat and a punch in the jaw. But when they’d said it to her, it’d enraged him afresh, like hearing it for the first time again. Like his cheeks were on fire and his ears were burning because now she knew just what stock he was made of.

  The worst kind, wealthy or not.

  Well, good. Relationships were bad investments anyway. Terrible return. A doomed endeavor. Hopefully she wouldn’t want to kiss him again after all that. He felt an inexplicable pang in his chest at the thought.

  He stared down at his espresso and Red Bull. What had she said? Was he trying to kill himself? No, of course not. He was just trying to gain enough critical velocity to launch himself out of the orbit of these assholes, to shake them off and go back to his real life. Maybe next time he didn’t need both, though. Maybe it was a bit much.

  He downed his caffeine and headed down the street, around the block. Cold raindrops slicked the red hood of his beloved 3 Series. He’d parked the BMW on a fairly empty and protected side-street lot. The car was another hard-earned, well-loved part of his life he kept to himself and himself alone. He kept his keys in his pocket and his BMW parked out of sight.

  He’d seen enough of what money did to relationships. It wasn’t going to do it to his.

  The car was just for him, a piece of artful engineering he loved. It would have been easier to just keep his last beater and park wherever he wanted. But showing up on foot didn’t hurt the persona he’d nurtured in some circles as his career in pro gaming had grown. Foolish circles, and he hadn’t had the energy to combat it at first. He’d tried not to encourage it. Then he’d no longer cared to argue. Some people weren’t worth arguing with anyway.

  He drove back to his house and collapsed on the couch. Fuck. He could still smell her. Coffee, spice, maybe vanilla. No, something more complex he didn’t recognize. Part of him was still waiting with bated breath for another snarky put-down from those sexy purple-black lips.

  He shut his eyes. Here, in this haven, he could be honest with himself. He’d brought no one here. He’d told few he even had a house. Let fucking Frank think what he wanted about where he slept.

  Here, he could be honest. He knew just where that raging hard-on was coming from, and he’d imagined her in a thousand different ways over the last few hours.

  Nothing physical required, you asshole. You fucking stupid asshole.

  But she’d kissed him first. Her idea. All of this was because he just wanted them all to leave him alone. And yet her fucking mind-capturing lips haunted him, and that ensorcelling tongue, oh God, that tongue. He let his hand drift down and into his pants, remembering their second kiss, the way it had gone on after the door had closed, after it needed to.

  Had it ever really been needed?

  Had she just been trying to help him out? Could she have had some ulterior motive?

  In his mind, he saw them back there, sitting on the bed of his teenage years. How many hours had he spent dreaming about having a girl there with him? But he’d never known any girl strong enough to withstand those devils. Even Vio. Had he been actually dating her, he probably wouldn’t have taken her there. Love just got you kicked in the balls anyway, so none of it was worth the risk.

  And yet there she had been, playing Xbox at his side, no less. His hand found his goal and went to work, stroking hard. He just needed some relief. That was all. Then he’d stop thinking like this. Then he’d stop thinking about her. Maybe it had just been too long; he’d been too caught up with work. He needed to relax after all that.

  But what would have happened if that kiss had gone on? What if they hadn’t stopped? Was there any chance she might have wanted to keep going? Was there any chance she had actually enjoyed it?

  God, he was a fucking creep, offering her money to go to a party with him and jerking off about her afterward. But he hadn’t meant it like that. He hadn’t thought he would think or feel anything. He just wanted them off his back. He certainly hadn’t thought she would kiss him.

  His imagination took over. Instead of breaking away from that surprising kiss, she worked her way down over his chest, his abs, down, freeing him and wrapping him with those amazing, perfect lips and her intense drive. Would she be so intense in bed? Or more shy? What would her mouth feel like? Would she even… ?

  Her hair had felt soft in his fingers, its scent complex and sweet and mysterious, like incense. He focused on that sensation and those lips as he found his release, imagined the feeling of her lying alongside him afterward in the quiet dark.

  He lay for a long while before he went to change his clothes, wishing she were really there to lay beside him, feeling kind of like
an asshole. Guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

  But contract or no contract, he couldn’t deny the way that kiss had made him feel. The way it had left him longing for her. The way the house felt a little bit empty today for the first time. The way her words had made his soul soar with retorts he’d always wanted to come up with but had never thought to say. No one had ever defended him before, in front of them.

  Fuck Ragsford. Fuck normal. Fuck barbecues. Fuck Frank.

  Fuck me. God, he was in deep. All he wanted to do was fuck her.

  Violet stabbed at the snooze on her phone and retreated back into bed.

  As had happened the last few days, her dreams had been more colorful and exciting than usual, all involving Jack. In some, they’d been trapped while his father or Frank sniped at them and she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to shut them up. In others, she’d leave Deacon Hall and see Jack and Olivia walking ahead of her on the campus green, holding hands. She wasn’t sure if she could attribute that dream to a fear of failing at the task he’d set before her or a certain jealousy that had no reasonable grounds. But at least three times the dream had returned.

  There were others, though. Better ones. Ones with only Jack in them.

  This morning as she collapsed desperately back into sleep, she was in his room and in the bed this time. No intruders disturbed them. At least not yet.

  His hands slipped under her shirt, running across her skin, sending sparks of pleasure through her. His hand found the edge of her bra and slipped under that too, cupping her as his body pressed against her.

  And then the same hand drifted lower, down her hip, along her skirt and under. Her thigh shook at the slow, steady movement. His kiss intensified as his fingers found her center and—

  The alarm rang again.

  Fuck. What a terrible, wonderful way to wake up. Or… maybe snooze again. Just one more time.

  As she fell back asleep, the dream commenced. Well, sort of. The problem of clothes had been magically solved, and the boring parts skipped, and now he was entering her, quenching a desperate need she didn’t want to admit she had, not just for sex, but for sex with him. And just once was not enough for her sleeping brain. The dream rapidly progressed through a variety of positions, him hovering over her, her riding him, him taking her from behind. That last one lingered the longest, as she dreamed of his hands’ hard grip on her hips, her shoulders, her hair, even her wrists. The last was all too much for her, wild and vivid and intense, and her climax hit her, a beautiful explosion twisting through her even in sleep.

  She opened her eyes, panting, now fully awake.

  Well, then. Goodness. It wasn’t the first time that had happened, but… it had been a long time.

  At least it would help her concentrate on her work today. She sat up and swung her legs out of bed. Good thing she had time for a shower, because all those thoughts had left her rather damp. And gross. And maybe a little disgusted with herself.

  It’s just a rebound, she assured herself. You’re just used to having Max around and now you’re just transferring some of that to literally whatever asshole is handy. It just happened to be Jack. It wasn’t personal. It would fade as soon as the project was over. As long as she somehow managed to keep this ridiculous attraction hidden. If he picked up on it… who knew what would happen?

  She’d sensed a surprising disappointment in him when she’d left after coffee that day. She would have liked to have stayed, if only to bitch a little longer. She had had real work to do, but as she’d walked away, she’d felt like she was abandoning a puppy on a busy, lonely street corner.

  She dug her palms into her eyes, trying to rub sleep and stupidity away. She was a fucking idiot, and he was no puppy. More like a wolf. As soon as they finished the project and she got the money and Will got his campsite, she’d never have to see Jack again.

  A good night’s sleep, a cold shower, and a full day of work had Jack’s head on straight again. Violet was indeed way better than he’d remembered. She was bold, clever, sincere… way fucking smarter than him. Gorgeous.

  And all that was irrelevant. He was staying single.

  It was paramount that he got the bachelor train back on its tracks before their attraction to each other derailed every plan he’d ever made.

  He could do professional. He could do cold. He could not text her, and when his dad invited him to drinks at his office with Olivia’s dad—and Olivia—he could go. Alone. Without Violet. And be just fine.

  This whole contract thing was a stupid, fucked-up idea anyway. He should cancel it.

  The office was in a high-rise downtown, with majestic views all around as the city spread out beneath them like a star-studded blanket. The style was corporate inertia meets consultant swagger, with a dash of high design thrown in. Whoever Lawrence and his partner Bill had hired to decorate the place had more taste than both of them combined.

  His dad greeted him with a raised scotch glass and strode over, throwing his arm around Jack’s shoulders. In another decade, he’d have definitely had some kind of cancer stick in his hand.

  “Well, look who bothered to show up,” Lawrence said smoothly, fake smile unfaltering and plastered on his face. “A fucking hour late.”

  Jack shrugged, attempting to dislodge the arm around him to no avail. “You’re lucky I’m here. Isn’t one supposed to be fashionably late to these things?”

  “Where’s your arm candy?”

  “Violet’s in the lab.” That was probably true. He hadn’t texted her. That suddenly seemed like just what Lawrence had wanted him to do.

  “Well, good. She’s rough around the edges.”

  “She has real work to do.” Jack glared off into the city skyline.

  “This, my boy, is real work. How do you think the silly little scientists get their funding? By raising their hands? Everybody schmoozes. Now go do some honest work for a change.”

  His dad wouldn’t know honest work if it crawled up his ass and died there. “Fine.”

  “Olivia’s dad is over there. Eddie Pemberbrooke, CEO of Aditech Enterprises. His contract is practically in the bag. Don’t fuck this up, Jack.”

  “How would I fuck it up?”

  “You find ways.”

  “If you were worried about that, maybe you shouldn’t have invited me.”

  “I thought just this once you’d be willing to help me seal the deal.”

  “By screwing his little girl?”

  Lawrence took a break from fake for a moment and pursed his lips. Then like a flash, it was gone. “You know, after all I’ve done for you. All I’ve done. You’re my son, and that comes with certain obligations. And I’ve let you out of nearly every one. I hardly ask you to contribute anything to this family, and this one thing—this one thing—you can’t give me.” How did he manage to say all that while smiling and sipping scotch? That was his real genius right there.

  “Dating someone is not a small—”

  “Not just dating. That girl is a perfect match for you—connections, money, a job she’s sure to drop out of—”

  “That is quite possibly the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Female chefs never last. But I’m sure her suppers on the table at six will be exemplary.”

  Jack finally shook off his dad’s arm, making a disgusted noise. “That shit has gone the way of the dodo, Lawrence. Get with the times.”

  “Talk to me in a decade.” His father took a smug sip.

  “I’m getting a drink. And I’ll mingle. But I don’t owe you anything.” He didn’t give Lawrence another chance; he headed for the catered bar covered with some elaborate hors d’oeuvres.

  The food should have been a warning. Before he’d even gotten his soda and lime, Olivia had spotted him and closed in, giving up her position eying the catering table with a frown.

  “Hey, Jack!” she said brightly. “Where’s Violet?”

  He was surprised she asked. “Oh, she had work to do tonight.”

/>   Olivia smiled. “I know how that is. I work Wednesday through Sunday.”

  “Nights?” That sounded awful. “So this is like your weekend?”

  “Yeah.” She shrugged. “Restaurants, what can you do?”

  With a schedule like that, Jack doubted he would last. Not all chef jobs had to be like that, though, right? “Need another drink?” he asked, and then winced inwardly.

  “I’m all right,” she said. “I downed that first merlot a little too fast.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “So your dad is a CEO?”

  “Aditech is his baby.” She started twirling a long strand of blond hair around her finger, her other arm folded across her chest and tucked neatly under her elbow.

  “What’s this project he wants to do with my dad’s firm?”

  “Oh, they want the works. He’s got this whole suite of educational software for middle schoolers, and he wants the very best marketing plans, PR, sales team setup, lean six something? List is as long as my arm.”

  “Lean six sigma?”

  “Yeah, how did you know?”

  “Business major once upon a time. He doesn’t have people internally for all that?”

  “He does, but Aditech’s software has been mostly adult training simulations so far. They are struggling to reach kids. Or parents.”

  “Ah,” Jack said, out of things to say. A long, awkward pause stretched between them before he thought of something else. “What’s it teaching?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said it was educational software. On what?”

  “STEM. First three complete courses are on physics, chemistry, and biology.” She paused briefly, blushing. “It’s nothing that original, unfortunately. It’s been done before. That’s not helping. That’s why he’s looking outside the firm. I mean, the classes are really great. I loved the chemistry one. But the idea isn’t exactly novel.”